Under the Mask
by Blue Turtle of AWESOMENESS
Summary: Sherlock Holmes was once a child, and when the past begins to catch up with him but nobody realises, Mycroft decides that his little brother's best kept secret needs to be revealed - his heart. Angsty and bromancey fluff between our Holmes boys, and contains self-harm and scuicidal thoughts of a young Sherlock. Read, Enjoy, Review! xx
1. Sally

**Heyy guys!**

**I promised I would write another longer fic for SHERLOCK OMG I LOVE SHERLOCK AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHH *cough cough* Ok fangirling over (ok, thats a lie, but i'll keep most of it inside). And here it is! **

**This is angsty, and has bromance between Mycroft and Sherlock. And John, but he isn't my main focal point. I needed that brotherly harmony between the Holmes boys, because I LOVED SEASON 3. And we need to delve deeper. **

**So this is about young Sherlock. The olden days. And how it turned him into what he is today. **

**So enjoy! I dont really know where this is going to end up, but it's been on my mind for a loooooooong while now. I needed to write it, so here is a taster chapter. **

**LOVE YOU ALL!**

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><p>Sally Donovan didn't like Sherlock Holmes.<p>

She thought he was obnoxious, cruel, bitter, empty, and a total psychopath. He was a jealous show-off with no sense of gratitude or remorse.

Sally hated him.

He was an empty void.

But Sally watched wide-eyed as he cried.

_Sherlock Holmes was crying._

Salt water tears trickling down his face and a look in his big blue eyes that said he was lost.

He wouldn't look at anyone.

But then that government guy – the powerful one, what was his name… Mikey? No, Mycroft, that was it, that pompous one that hated Sherlock (so, naturally, Sally admired him), he had the same look on his face.

And…

Oh my god.

The apocalypse had begun.

Mycroft was hugging Sherlock.

A man hugging Sherlock the Freak.

Oh.

Oh.

Sally got it now.

It was for attention. Had to be. No other reason why Freak would be crying.

Geez, that sentence didn't make sense…

So Sally couldn't help but laugh, and then she found a fist in her face and a voice in her ear.

_"Maybe you should wait for the facts, Miss Donovan," _Mycroft hissed.

Sally nodded.

Only then did anybody realise Sherlock had gone.

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><p><strong>There we go! Please drop a review, and if you want to follow or fave that would be nice also. <strong>

**So yeah.**

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	2. Mycroft

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**Here is Mycroft's POV of last chapter! Enjoy!**

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><p>Oh God.<p>

Oh, God, it was happening all over again.

No, Sherlock, stay strong. I promised I would protect you, remember? That's what big brothers do.

_But I'm hardly a good brother … I broke my promise last time…_

Just come here. Come on, please just let it all out … I lied, caring isn't weak …

_I lied … no surprise there …_

You're the most important thing to me, understand?

_What about my job?_

You are my little brother. Nothing will change that. Ever. You're still that young child, I understand.

_The one I couldn't protect … the one I wouldn't protect. _

This time it'll be different. I know you hate me.

_I understand why you hate me._

I know forgiveness is too big to ask for.

_I know forgiveness will never happen._

But I'll always be here for you.

_I promise. _

Mycroft heard something through his brother's sobs, those sobs he hadn't heard for years. It was laughter.

Laughter.

He couldn't control himself. He whipped around and punched Sally Donavon in the jaw. She stared, wide eyed.

_ "Maybe you should wait for the facts, Miss Donovan," _he spat venomously.

He whipped around to console his brother … _his little brother …_ until he realised his mistake.

His cry for Sherlock echoed through London, and only when they saw how ashen his face was did they realise how serious this might be.

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><p><strong>So this is going to be a bit of a flitting beginning, where I'll go back in time, forward in time, (over the Irish Sea :D) but in the end you'll see that it all makes sense. I love you all! Reviews are like batteries for speedy updates!<strong>

**Byee!**

**Blue Turtle of AWESOMENESS xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**


	3. Humane

***sobs* I am so sorry. I haven't updated in forever, yet your response has been better than the best. I got a puppy in half term (last week) you see, so I couldn't update then...and before that homework...**

**But to be honest there isn't an excuse. I am so sorry, I'll update loads from now on. :***

**WARNING: You may not get this chapter, but it's a flashback.**

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><p>"It's a three."<p>

"That's harsh. A six, at least?"

"It's a three. And anyway, I don't do less than a seven."

"I thought you'd relaxed that?"

"Lestrade," Sherlock turned to face the DI. "I cannot relax my rule so much I do a three."

Greg sighed in exasperation. "Go on then. What makes it a three?"

"Oh, for God's sake, can none of you see?!" the Consulting Detective leered. "The man hasn't been murdered."

Greg's eyebrows furrowed. "But he's dead. No pulse, not breathing..."

"That man wasn't murdered."

"But you're here."

"It sounded like a seven when you told me." Sherlock put on a falsetto voice, in a mocking imitation of Lestrade's words; "Oh, Sherlock, a man has been murdered, there's a knife wound in his stomach and it's not bleeding, there's blood on the floor, there's no way out of the room … please come and help us, we are incapable to do any detective work of our own..."

"I do NOT sound like that! I didn't say that…!"

"Really?" Sherlock smirked. "That's what I heard."

He loomed down over the body.

"Look. Blood smears, here and here. There's a lot of blood over the carpet, and the man is dead. A knife wound - but that's covered in blood too. Look back to the carpet. Not nearly enough blood to have killed the man - yet the knife wound is very deep. He seems to have died of blood loss - where is the large amount of blood he lost? This isn't nearly enough. The smears - they're from fingers. The man's fingers are large, no, these are a woman's fingers. They're very small and delicate..."

"You're fingers are bloody small and delicate..."

"My fingers, Detective Inspector, long and are not involved in the case. These are a woman's fingers. The nails are long but have been filed, see the slight dents mostly covered up with the blood. The man hasn't been dead for a short amount of time - a day old, maybe - and the knife wound is the same. The blood is not this man's, you can check with the forensics. This blood is from the hospital, because there's the packet over there, cleverly hidden behind the mirror. You're not looking for a murderer, you're looking for a lady who wants to talk to me because she's a fan, this body is from the morgue, probably the one Molly couldn't account for yesterday. This man's death was an accident, he probably fell on a knife at home and it slowly killed him. He's a single man, no children, so the culprit is the teenage girl who 'found' the body. Tell her she could've just emailed me, it's on the blog. I need a cup of tea, can I go home now?"

Lestrade stared for a second, before laughing. "Oh, that's brilliant..." he chuckled. "Poor girl-"

"Oh, and Lestrade? Don't arrest her, she was dared by her friends. Just give her a warning and send her home."

With that, he marched out of the room, with a swish of his coat...

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><p>"...and the poor girl was blushing like mad, apologising all the way!"<p>

John whooped with laughter. "That's hilarious. Did you hear that, Mary?"

There was a muffled "yes" in the background. Greg grinned into the phone.

"Apart from that, the man's been bloody bored stiff."

"Ah. I see. Has he been terrible?"

"Well, I haven't really seen him much. That kid, Archie, he's always around him. I think he's got himself a protégé, John!"

"Did he show him the headless nuns?"

"Oh yes. The kid nearly wet himself with excitement, Donovan was nearly in hysterics thinking there'd be no end to 'freakism' - that's the first time she called him that, actually, since the fall..."

There was silence. "Yeah, well," John said. "He has got better."

"Mhm. Well, have a good time on your holiday, be sure to send a postcard..."

"Ha! Women and postcards ... seriously, the only time she had more indecision was when we were picking teddy bears!"

Greg chuckled. "Oh, and Greg?" the voice on the other end said.

"Yeah?"

"How is he on ... you know ... the Return?"

"Ah. Yes. Well, as you know he nearly killed himself working on it, but he's relaxed a little. Still gets edgy, but I think we convinced him not to spend day and night. He's worried though, I can tell. He thinks Moriarti should've done something by now. But, he's not worrying as much. He's prepared for the worst, but he's not killing himself or anything."

"Oh, thank God. I had these horrid images of him in a flipping ninja outfit, hunting him down with a rifle through some forest and shooting anything with sudden movement... honestly, the nightmares..."

Greg burst out laughing. "Sherlock Holmes, the revenge mad Ninja King!"

The two men laughed. Suddenly, Greg stopped. "Speak of the devil ... I have to go, John. Enjoy yourself, mate."

"Yeah, bye Greg."

The phone went dead.

Sherlock looked confused. "Why were you laughing?"

Greg smirked, picturing him with a tight fitting ninja outfit, including the head bandana with a machine gun.

"Oh, no reason."

Sherlock eyed him suspiciously.

"Ok. So why are you here?"

"I...wanted to say I'm taking your advice."

"Oh God," Greg said. "The apocalypse has begun."

Sherlock shot him a filthy look. "Anyway - about ... Moriarti."

Greg sobered up immediately. "Oh. Go on...?"

"Yes, well ... I'm worried why he's hiding, but ... I think it's probably tiring me out. It's ... it's just taking up to much time..." Sherlock said, not looking at him. "I'm leaving it until anything suspicious comes up. But I'll still be working on it."

Greg grinned. There was the human Sherlock. "Good on you, mate. You can look into it, just not day and night, alright?"

Sherlock nodded like a child being told how to improve by his teacher. Greg felt the awkwardness crashing through him. "Coffee?"

"Yes please."

In another time hearing 'please' would've been a rarity. Of the highest kind. But since Magnussan, Sherlock had become more open. Still Sherlock, but more human. More likely to be sarcastic in a way that was funny to all than mockery. Mycroft of course didn't approve. "Sentiment," Greg had heard him sneer when he came to 'check up' on his brother in 221B. That was just before the case that was a three.

Shaking his head, Greg went to get the coffee, as Sherlock dropped his cover and looked truly exhausted and collapsed in a chair.

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><p><strong>There we go! This happened before the past two chapters, not much of an insight...OR IS IT? BWA HA HA HA! Yeah but no. By the way, I am a canon person. This story will be canon! So set between the most cruel and evil ending EVR and the next series. Moriarti won't appear in this BUT DON'T E PUT OFF PLEASE! <strong>

**Yeah, I probably better go. Thanks for all that magical and wonderful support! **

**~Blue Turtle of AWESOMENESS xxxxxxxx xxxxxxx**


	4. Sleep

**How sorry I am. I say I'll update soon and its ages since I have. I'm so sorry, I've been so busy it's killed me!**

**Okay. Okay. Let's so this… btw THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR THE SUPPORT I LOVE YOU! *Bows deeply and worships readers***

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><p>It had been such a boring time without John.<p>

Several times he had just checked the blog to make sure John was updating and was alright (which he was).

Sherlock was bored; he had jumped up at the opportunity to go to a case, and it had sounded so _promising. _It was a lie.

In fact, so boring, he had even agreed in the end to give up (a little) on Moriarty. Just thinking about him sent a spark of stress through his body. He needed to relax. Even Mycroft had tried telling him that.

He sat down and waited for the DI to return with the coffee.

It was when he had sat down did he realise that he was exhausted.

He felt a rush of sleep wave over him. He slumped in the chair, and breathed out.

_Don't think about Moriarty … think about something else … what about that man over there? Try to deduce him … _

_No … relax. Relax. _

So Sherlock blanked out the Mind Palace. He sighed again. His eyes felt heavy, and he could see his reflection in the glass.

His face was paler than usual, shadows lingering under his eyes. He seemed even skinnier, but that was to be expected. He hadn't been eating again. He didn't have time. He was bored but he hadn't been bored, because he had been too stressed.

To be honest, he had been acting. Sherlock Holmes didn't get tired. Nope, not Sherlock Holmes … sitting in this big, comfortable armchair, in a warm room … and it was quiet … and he was so exhausted …

Sherlock felt his eyes close.

Sally had been looking through the files of recent cases. This, that … urgh, it was tedious. Very tedious.

Where was Greg? She stood up, stretching and blinking heavily. Right. Greg.

She left her desk and peered around to Greg's office.

She couldn't see him – oh, there he was.

"Hey."

"Hey, Sally. You alright?"

"Yeah, apart from the fact I'm so bored. Anything come up out of that case? That guy with the non-bleeding wound?"

"Yeah, Sherlock. Turned out it was a demented fangirl. It was an old body with blood from the hospital."

"Oh. Sherlock's here?"

"Yup. I'm getting him a coffee, he's got to rest a little, and he's obviously exhausted."

Sally frowned. "He's _here _here?"

"Yeah …"

"Where?"

"My office. He was in the chair last I saw …"

They peered in unison around the coffee machine to Lestrade's office. There, in the chair, was Sherlock.

"Is he …?"

Lestrade and Sally advanced quietly. Sherlock was curled up in the chair like a child, his eyes closed, breathing deeply and looking so calm Greg felt his heart soften.

"Look at that."

Sally smirked. "He's asleep in the _office._"

"He deserves some rest, Sally. It's been Moriarty this, Moriarty that, he needs some rest. And a sandwich, he's skinny."

"Right," Sally huffed, and went back to filing.

"Oh, Sherlock," Greg chuckled fondly. "What are we going to do with you."

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><p><strong>Okay? Not okay? Not worth the wait? I am sorry you guys, I really am. <strong>

**By the way, how do you guys feel about ZOMBIES? Have any of you played/watched the gameplay of The Last of Us? **

**Let me know pretty please I need to know NOW **

**Love you all,**

**~BToA xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**


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